


Beyond the Boundary

by virryth



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Angst, Fluff, Happy Ending, M/M, Mentions of Death, Mentions of Violence, Mutual Pining, Pining, Slavery, Yearning, descriptions of violence, it's dystopia but honestly just sickeningly fluff ngl, jun has blue eyes, side!gyuhoon, side!jigyu, side!soonchan, suggestive but not smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-15 13:13:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28689213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/virryth/pseuds/virryth
Summary: Wonwoo and Junhui are birds of the same feather, yet they cannot be more different. In a world of grey's where the Marked are hunted, two people find each other at the oddest time.
Relationships: Jeon Wonwoo/Wen Jun Hui | Jun
Comments: 18
Kudos: 40





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> as a chapter-fic anti, I'm pleased to announce this is completed and is just queuing for posting once or twice weekly. ;)  
> enjoy! comments and kudos are always appreciated *v*  
> p/s i love kyoukai no kanata TT

**Chapter 1**

It is only known to a few that within the Boundary, there exists a race of individuals who are considered “poisoned” by the empire. They are called the Marked, born with traces of cobalt that line their skin, and kept alive only to be enslaved, trafficked, and harvested for their unique powers. They were once a feared race that ruled the empire, now they live in hiding within the walls, prosecuted by the dictatorship that reigns the new regime. 

As a child, Wonwoo has had to run from all sorts of people in his life. The head of his orphanage who strived to own his mark, punishing him in inhumane ways when he failed. The charity organizer who wished to take him in, only for him to escape with scars all along his back. He hates the mark that made people unkind, twists their hearts into something vicious, and robs him of a life free from the horrible miseries that fall upon his race. 

Even now, sitting within the base of the Resistance, Wonwoo hates the stains of cobalt on his skin. 

“He’s here.” 

Vernon, the handsome young man who had rescued Wonwoo from that hellish slum, announces. Vernon is one of the kinder people he’s met. As a leader within the underground organization that aims to overthrow the regime, he had trained Wonwoo on the basics protocols and got him started on a few rescue missions. Wonwoo had finally gotten used to life at the base, a routine in a life that lacks it is a comforting change he welcomed, yet it is not even four months and Wonwoo already has to leave his new stability behind. 

Vernon stands firm at the dock of the base, awaiting whoever will control Wonwoo's fate from now on. It’s always so foggy within the walls. Never a day in his time here has Wonwoo seen the sun, or greenery, for that matter. It’s always a sickening grey with ruins of rains and drizzles corroding the surface, chipping away his weary spirit.

Within minutes, the sound precedes the owner of the motorcycle, and a man as tall as Wonwoo, perhaps taller, takes off his helmet to greet Vernon. They seem friendly, but Wonwoo knows better than to trust any of these men for what they want from him aren’t that different from the people he’s had the misfortune to meet in his life. 

Vernon introduced the man as Wen Junhui. He walks with graceful long strides, taking a look at the round of recruits like he’s at the market looking for fishes to slaughter for dinner. Wonwoo feels conscious in his own skin, a feeling he abhors with every atom of his body, protectively drawing his knees closer to his chest. He’s heard of Wen Junhui before, whispers of respects and admirations among the new recruits about the leader of intel who excels in the art of disguise and assassination. 

“You,” the man utters, zooming in on Wonwoo and kneeling in front of him. “What’s your name?”

“Wonwoo.”

“Have you killed before, Wonwoo?”

The man looks no older than him, yet he overwhelms him in every possible way. His jet black hair is a stalk contrast with the foggy backdrop of the sky. His eyes a deep blue against the light, the same shade of cobalt that inked his skin, yet there is no malice in them, just pure curiosity and almost playful prying as he stares. For the first time, Wonwoo doesn’t rage at the invasive question.

“Yes, sir,” he speaks truthfully.

He winces, shaking his head and grinning a little. “ _Junhui_. Please. Formality makes me feel so old.”

“He’s the one?” Vernon asks

“Maybe.” Junhui flops down onto the ground and crosses his legs, seemingly so at home that Wonwoo wonders if his fearsome reputations just lies. His voice is soft when he speaks again, cerulean eyes boring into Wonwoo’s. “You have _so_ much hatred for the world. It’s written all over your face.” 

“Don’t _you_?”

“Of course I do, I just don’t let it show.” Junhui chuckles, tipping his head back just a little that his clavicle becomes visible. Wonwoo feels his stomach churned at the sight and averts his eyes just before Junhui resumes contact. “I like that look in your eyes, _Wonwoo_.”

Junhui springs from his spot as fast as he had sat, and before Wonwoo knows it, he’s being pulled along the ride at the back of the motorcycle, breezing through the polluted curtain of fog and onto the new base that will soon become his home.

The Resistance headquarter resides in the outermost layer of the border, deeply hidden underground to avoid detection by the _bots_ \--so-called soldiers of the empire, marked and unmarked individuals brainwashed by the regime to follow orders. 

“You’re so quiet.” 

Wonwoo feels the vibration of Junhui’s voice from his back as he loosen his hold on the man’s waist, placing distance between their bodies. Yet not even a second later Wonwoo is thrown against his back as arms encircles him tight.

“Talk to me, Wonwoo. Who did you kill?”

“None of your business.”

“Aw, come on! There’s so much more to life than the grey's within the Boundary. When you go beyond, you have to learn to share your stories eventually."

"Going beyond is a pipe's dream."

Junhui laughs. "You never know. I hear the world beyond is magnificent!"

If they weren’t in a dangerous moving vehicle with nothing to hold on to, Wonwoo would love to beat that grin off his face. He’s never felt so horribly close in proximity to anyone and he wonders why Junhui can’t seem to ride in silence. He would have preferred to walk had he been informed prior. Thankfully, Junhui’s love for speed led to their swift arrival at headquarters because any more time with Junhui would have sent him off the edge. Wonwoo sprints off the bike before Junhui comes to a complete stop, earning himself a chuckle from the biker. 

The command center is unlike any other places Wonwoo has been in. The tattered facade of the Resistance only serves to fool the Unmarked. What they see from their surveillance are merely ruins filled with a perpetual blanket of fog within the Boundary, its inhabitants starved and desperate. That used to be what Wonwoo believed, yet as he looks around at the machineries lining the wall from floor to ceiling, computers and sensors making all sorts of noise as he entered the room, he couldn't be more wrong.

Junhui walks in with ease, the many friendly faces greeting him with admiration and awe. He stands at the center of the group, radiating confidence and tossing aside his earlier relaxed demeanor, and Wonwoo finds himself unable to look away. He’s heard of this man before him. The charismatic leader with no fear, the best assassin in the faction, the charming commander with almost a split personality whose manners and crafts precede his name. Among many names, this is the man Wonwoo heard so much about, a beacon of hope for the Resistance. He looks so different from whoever he's just ridden with.

“As you may have heard,” Junhui’s humorless visage casts a shadow of authority over the room. “The Resistance no longer aims for a negotiation. We want a revolution. Which is why this mission will be the first of many to go on the offense.” 

All eyes and ears are on the leader as he elaborates on the nature of the plan. Three will be in disguise, two for theft, one for obtaining the coordinates, and an extraction team will be on standby outside the east window of the hotel. 

“As you have seen, we have new recruits among us.” Junhui gives Wonwoo a reassuring smile, much to the confusion of many, before proceeding with the briefing. “Wonwoo and I will be masked as we enter the casino while Jihoon will wait at the underground chamber for the keycard. Everyone else will be on standby in the van and around the vicinity.”

“We will communicate by comms, so everyone needs to double check your earpieces before go time.” Vernon takes over as Junhui steps back, eyes steady on the crowd before finding Wonwoo’s again. He winks at him, much to Wonwoo’s surprise, before exiting out the side entrance presumably for other duties.

“He’s messing with you.” A boy named Soonyoung approached him after the briefing had adjourned. 

“I hadn’t noticed.”

That seems to send Soonyoung over the edge as he playfully punches Wonwoo’s arm. “Ha! You’re funny! Where did they find you? Wonwoo, right?” 

“And you’re Soonyoung.”

“Right. Nice to meet ya! We’re the same age right? I actually met your brother, Chan, a few weeks ago. Cute kid. Heard you guys met in foster care. I have a brother stationed in the west headquarter who works closely with Yoon Jeonghan. Maybe you’ll meet one day, his name is Seokmin--” 

Soonyoung can’t seem to stop smiling in the presence of who he had already seen as his new friend, and his ramble fades into the background of the room--a welcomed distraction. The tension Wonwoo’s held onto since his entrance melts a little from his shoulders. Despite the unsettling encounter with Junhui, he finds himself among people of his race who are all fighting for change. That alone warrants for something, right? 

“--but he’s learning how to ride a motorcycle now. He keeps falling but he’ll be okay. Have I told you about Jihoon--”

“Why is Junhui coming? I thought only new faces are needed,” Wonwoo interrupts the boy, confused as to why he’s here at all.

Soonyoung, who has been rambling to himself for a few minutes now, doesn’t seem to notice or mind when he is cut off. “Ah, that’s the thing. Junhui’s never been ID’d. Apparently all his files are destroyed from the old regime's database so if Junhui wants to stay hidden he just needs to keep himself from being captured.”

“I see.” Wonwoo wonders how anyone can spend years within the compound and still manage to remain faceless, nameless in the vast information network of the regime. 

“Oh, that reminds me! It’s why I’m here actually. We’re needed in command, gotta get ourselves cleaned up for tomorrow’s assignment.” 

“Hey, Soonyoung" Wonwoo figures it doesn't hurt to ask, to establish seniority and basic manner if he's older since he's going to be interacting with the boss more often from now on. "How old is Junhui?”

Soonyoung tips his head back, enjoying the puzzled look on Wonwoo’s face. “Same as me, and same as you, silly.” 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the mission go south, Junhui crosses boundaries to save Wonwoo's life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> new wonhui selfie warrants an update *v*

**Chapter 2**

Headquarter exemplifies a honeycomb structure, each pocket of space contains training areas, mechanicals, and sleeping quarters stacking on top of one another in a cohesive hive with working bees performing their own task. Among them, the command center dwells in the furthest wing to the west, atop the highest hill where light reaches. The only location with adequate sunlight all time of the year.

It is here that Wonwoo feels like he might cry for the first time in a decade. The high ceiling room is lined with windows and solar panels, the perpetual blanket of fog swept away by sunlight pouring into the space, illuminating the walls, ceiling, all the little mundane trinkets on the tabletop. Wonwoo finds himself speechless as he takes in the scene, eyelashes flutter to the movement of the sky, up and down, as he watches the clouds move lights about the room, a clarion howl of emotion floods him.

He finally realizes why people make wishes to sunflowers, a symbol of the old regime, as nothing in life can be more glorious than the encompassing warmth of the sun. He’s spent years walking through the thickens of fog, holding Chan’s hand as the boy cries out for home, his family long since broken the night Wonwoo ended it for them. They had huddled on the street, under a bridge, and anywhere they thought safe in the cold and unforgiving space within the Boundary. Day after day, they find sunflowers for guidance, those resilient little buds that bring sunny days amidst the haziness of their life, comforting them with hope. They had thought maybe it’s not so bad being a sunflower. At least the cold will be bearable in the presence of an omnipotent existence that's bigger than themselves. 

“He looks so excited,” Soonyoung whispers not-so-quietly to Jihoon as the two of them stand by the control pad. 

“He looks like he’s going to cry,” Jihoon deadpans. “Can’t blame him. It’s beautiful up here.”

Wonwoo doesn’t notice Junhui’s gaze as he traverses towards the light. Junhui doesn’t notice it himself. Sunlight has a way of wonder when it comes to people. She illuminates the entire room as well as the boy in the center, and in her enveloping cradle, the vulnerability Wonwoo often has to hide comes crashing down. Junhui is left watching a boy whose life has been stolen from him at a young age, his weary visage reflecting the scars imprinted on his soul by the world. Wonwoo looks so serene, beautiful, even, that Junhui is almost enslaved by the way he moves, the way his lips quiver as sunlight shines on them in all her glory, calling out to him. 

Junhui thinks there’s a reason Vernon is so suited for rescue missions and recruitment. Although Junhui has a friendlier presence, Vernon’s complacent nature ensures he doesn’t get too attached when things don’t go well with newer faces. Vernon doesn’t let his mind wander into dangerous territory, doesn't question himself if this is mere attraction or eventual feelings that may possibly grow into something more. 

Certainly, he can’t afford that. Hardly anybody can at this point. But perhaps Junhui can look, steal a glance, keep his eyes on the boy he’s invited into his life against his better judgments, and nobody has to know.

By eight o’clock, the van was docked at a blind spot according to previous intel. The pair steps out with their masks, dressed in suits and ties, hair gelled back, dashing and befitting of Unmarked high society. Soonyoung makes a comment about the pair looking like a millionaire couple--a joke well received by Junhui but not by Wonwoo as he gives the sniper a go signal, ready to enter. 

The casino stands with all the malice it offered on the stormy night Wonwoo was turned away at the door. He remembers the bots’ cruelty, Chan’s miserable cries and the hunger they felt sleeping underneath the bridge. They had watched the Unmarked elites parade in their lavish warm coats, laughing, living, returning to welcoming homes with tables full of food and a family who loves them. Chan clung to him tighter that night, sharing his heat as they comfort each other, reminding themselves of the family they once had. 

Standing here leaves a sour taste in his mouth; Wonwoo didn’t think he’d be back so soon. 

He’d been briefed of his duty many times by both Vernon and Jihoon: distract the Duchess and her entourage, swipe the keycard, and wire Jihoon the code to unlock the underground security chamber. 

“Ready, my dear?” Junhui offers his arm to his companion, a radiant smile plastered across his face, so real Wonwoo has to remind himself not to believe it. 

“Don’t call me that,” Wonwoo mumbles as he takes his arm. His role is secondary to Junhui, serving as back up and extra eyes in case something unexpected happens, though he doubts the plan would fall through. He doesn’t yet trust Junhui, but he trusts Vernon’s brilliant mind when it comes to retrieval assignments. 

“If we are to pull off this fake couple act,” Junhui leans in close, placing emphasis in his phrases, “you have to at least _pretend_ you don’t find me annoying.”

The invaded space makes Wonwoo squirm, reminding him of the motorcycle ride when they spearheaded the fog, but only momentarily, as Junhui returns to his casual smile and leads him to the entrance. 

They pass check-in with ease, arm in arm flashing smiles at everyone. The party is as extravagant as the name of the Duchess implies. Right away, they are greeted with refreshments through the halls decorated with pearls and jewels befitting royalty, and guests donning masks and precious gemstones Wonwoo has never seen flock to the ballroom. 

It is known to only a few that the regime keeps a tight lid on their arms regulation, sworn secrecy among the elites--people such as the Duchess--and the only way for anyone to obtain them is to ambush the exchange. Though it’s quite odd that this is all a facade for weapon exchange; the Duchess must fancy herself a grand soiree if she is to be bribed into such a front in her own lair. 

Granted, her lavish taste isn’t the only notoriety keeping her afloat as the cruelest name among the Unmarked and Marked alike, it is her peculiar collection of slaves that highlights her reputation. Everyone treks about wearing such merry and happy disguises that Wonwoo almost forgot the ever-growing presence of bots, lining the walls and balconies in concealment. It reeks from where they stand, chemicals and oils specifically engineered to aggravate the Marked’s sense of smell, and Wonwoo feels sick to his stomach when he finally sees them. Marked ones dressed in fine silk and laces that outline their cobalt streaks, their bodies decorated with flowers and silver chains like trophies on display. Their bodies are scarred with horrible wounds, all their nails pulled out and placed in front of them for others to play guessing games--which nail belongs to which finger. They line the raised podium as part of the ballroom’s interior, standing like statues for guests to ogle over their marks, so still and lifeless Wonwoo had thought they were corpses.

He grips Junhui’s arm to steady himself, nauseous from the sight. No amount of preparation from the mission reports equipped him for this, any longer now and he would vomit right onto the expensive casino floorings.

Junhui grips his hands in return, a sign of mutual discomfort. “I’m sorry you had to see this.”

Wonwoo swallows harshly, feeling as if the lump in his throat has sprouted claws and is slicing his esophagus apart. Yet as he peers at Junhui, his eyes haven’t so much as twitched at the blatant parade of his own people, and Wonwoo finally sees how he’s warranted everyone’s respect. Either he genuinely feels nothing at the horrific sight, or he has had years of practice to hide the burning hatred he supposedly held just like every single Marked one. He’s too good at it that if not for the iron grip on his hand, Wonwoo would’ve doubted whether he felt it at all.

The rest of the night plays out exactly in accordance to plan. The hoards of Unmarked ladies and gentlemen had taken one look at Junhui and deemed him too bright and good-natured to doubt, lowering their guards and yielding their attention away from their possessions. Within just ten minutes of superficial socializing with the Duchess, Junhui has successfully slipped the keycard into Wonwoo’s pocket and made their exit to rendezvous as swiftly as they had entered. Jihoon works quickly down the security chamber while the two of them rejoin the party to play a few rounds of poker and pretend to be as rich and frivolous as the rest of the Unmarked high society.

“Jihoon will be done in a few minutes,” Junhui checks his watch before placing his untouched glass of wine back onto the tray. “I’ll pretend to faint and you’ll flag a bot to carry me to our car. Once we’re outside, the others will come.”

“Right,” Wonwoo nods, wondering if such a ridiculous excuse will work. He takes a sip of his drink. It _has_ to work. It’s a completed mission if they’re successfully extracted without getting caught. 

But then the pain kicks in. Wonwoo clutches his lower abdomen as intense pain pierces his flesh, like sharp needles poking out of own skin. He nearly topples over as sweat pools on his forehead, blurring his vision. Then the spasm begins on his finger, his arms, making their ways up his shoulders and neck, unimaginable pain follows their wake. It takes less than a second for Junhui to excuse himself with his companion, securing Wonwoo in a corridor free from prying eyes. 

“What’s wrong?” Junhui hisses, supporting Wonwoo as he leans against the velvet wall. His eyes roam Wonwoo’s body for any sign of blood. “Tell me where it hurts!”

Wonwoo shakes his head, words failing at the base of his throat. The pain is so immense he feels faint from the agony of it all. He lifts his shirt with a trembling hand, revealing his cobalt mark on the left side of his lower abdomen.

Junhui curses under his breath, averting his eyes and mumbling something about the drink. An identifier. Wonwoo couldn’t catch the rest when his body collapsed against the velvet, head spinning out of his own mind.

“L-leave me,” his voice falters, foreign to his own ears, “you’ll miss the e-extraction window.” 

Wonwoo recalls his conversation with Chan just hours prior as footsteps begin piling onto the adjacent corridor. He’d wished him luck, and Wonwoo had promised to be home for dinner--their code for _I’ll come back to you_ as it is a mutual fear that people who come into their life would end up leaving them behind, just as their siblings had. He mumbles an apology to Chan as he might not make it back afterall.

But he doesn’t get to despair further when Junhui pulls him into an empty hotel room and his body hits flush cushions, a shadow of Junhui getting on top of him. 

“Jun--”

“Listen to me very carefully.” Junhui hissed as he slips the tie over his head and starts to unbutton his shirt. “Your drink was spiked with an identifier. It burns your mark so you must _not_ faint until it is shared. Do you hear me? _Stay with me, Wonwoo_.”

Wonwoo doesn’t understand a single word he’s just heard, but he nods meekly as he leaves his life in Junhui’s hand. He’s unsure if his vision works anymore when Junhui begins to shrug off his shirt. It’s too dark to make out what Junhui has proceeded to, but Wonwoo feels hands clamming up on his own chest moments later, and soon his own shirt is tossed aside. 

Even in the hazy stupor of his mind, numbed by the pain, Wonwoo can still see the redness coloring Junhui’s skin. He looks flushed, uneven breathing strains the muscle on his throat as it moves organically like painted vines on skin. His eyes travel further down Junhui’s chest, taking in the ghastly scars and stopping only when he reaches the buckle of his trouser. He forces his eyes shut. The pain subsides and returns like knife carving into his mark, open wound bleeding and healing and bleeding again. 

“Wonwoo,” Junhui’s voice pulls him back from the depth of pain, blue irises bright against the dim backdrop of the room. “I have to touch your mark. I’m sorry, but it’s the only way to save your life.”

Junhui justifies the act with such magnitude, but whatever that implies is lost on Wonwoo as he loses control of his limbs. He gives Junhui the go when the clamoring sound of bots on the other side of the wall reaches his ears. Perhaps it is the sight of Junhui’s bare chest as his thighs straddle Wonwoo into the bed that makes his head spin a little faster in the dark. Perhaps it is Junhui’s hand pressing his shoulders to the mattress, cold fingers tracing the outlines of his mark that sends shivers all over his body.

Perhaps it is just the way Junhui looks at him, feverish and nervous to an unknown extent, and as they sink deeper into the mattress, skin to skin, in his bleary depth of view Wonwoo feels that if he moves just an inch, their lips would touch. 

“Stay quiet.”

Junhui is so close that they’re exchanging breaths. The small space between them is overwhelming to the senses. Smothering. _Suffocating_. And as the bots stomp into the room, Junhui bites down on the delicate line of muscle on Wonwoo’s neck, smearing the cobalt mark with his fingers and eliciting a groan from his throat. 

“E-esteemed guests of the Duchess, we apologize for disturbing you!”

Junhui turns Wonwoo’s head to the side, hiding his face as his glasses slide off from his nose. As Junhui twists his body to face the bots, Wonwoo hears murmurings and shoutings all at the same time among the clouds that envelop his senses, sending him into yet another wave of pain. 

But it is less and less painful as the conversation goes on, and the last thing Wonwoo remembers before blacking out are the faint glow from his mark, and the gentle, apologetic whispers of promises that everything will be alright. 

Wonwoo believes him. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Junhui struggles to make sense of the event that night as Wonwoo finally wakes up.

**Chapter 3**

Wonwoo has been asleep for as many days as Junhui spends alone in the training field, trying to rid his mind of the event that night. He weighs the daggers in his hand, shuffling them absentmindedly as the sound echoes off the high walls. It’s his special place. He comes whenever he’s deep in thoughts, to scream without anyone storming in to disturb him. There’s even a little bunker to sleep behind the locker room where his friends can find if he’s really needed, and Junhui likes spending his isolation period here. 

He’s felt an unexplainable attraction to Wonwoo from the start. There was something about the dim-looking boy Vernon had picked for intel that bewitched him, much like how the Marked is portrayed by the Unmarked regime, as a race that uses their power to charm and twist the mind. The attraction hypnotizes him and deluges his mind with delusions of desires. He’s never believed the propaganda put forth by the regime to brainwash its citizens against the Marked, but he can’t deny that what he feels for Wonwoo is similar to the sermon forced into his ears if he ever strays too close to the Boundary. 

And then he shows him the mark in the middle of the corridor, letting him caress the blue ink so sacred to his own, an act only reserved for his family and loved ones. Junhui should feel different, unnatural, yet he couldn’t look away and he blames his action on this ridiculous infatuation that captivated him. It’s a nasty feeling he can’t ever seem to control, it’s to his own astonishment he was able to hold back at all in the aftermath. Even in isolation, in the only space he ever feels truly alone, his mind drifts off to thoughts of Wonwoo in that room--how he had looked sinking into the flush pillows, the sweat, the scent so aphrodisiac to his senses that Junhui had been unable to look away.

But all of his turmoils were explained when he’d seen it. Wonwoo’s mark of an angel’s trumpet flower, saturated and  _ glowing _ underneath his touch. He had only wanted to touch the mark and share his pain, alleviate the bulk of Wonwoo’s suffering to his own body, but it had glowed, and he had felt painless with an ache in his chest, a dull burning sensation that spreads rhythmically from his fingertip to his own mark, blue ink moving against his finger.

The sight lingers at the back of his head for hours--days. He sees it in the glass panels of the command room, in the mirror of the communal bathroom, in the scattered mundanes he’s never paid much attention to before. He sees it behind his eyelids at night, haunting his dreams and calling out to him in serrated rhythms--the same way Wonwoo had called his name on that small bed. He sees it everywhere, brazenly reminding him what it signifies for both of them. 

He misses. The dagger bounces off the target and tumbles near Jihoon’s feet.

“What’s going on with you?” Jihoon asks when it’s clear that Junhui won’t be speaking about whatever it is that has been bothering him since they left the casino that night.

Junhui misses again.

“ _ Seriously _ . You hardly ever missed.”

Junhui sighs and tosses the remaining knives aside, turning away from his friend as he racks his brain for an answer. Against his better judgments, he hasn’t told anyone about the catastrophe he’s caused. Granted, his friends had an inkling something had gone wrong, that Wonwoo had taken an identifier, but they had believed he miraculously survived the small dosage and only ended up losing consciousness in the process. With Wonwoo still comatose in the infirmary, Junhui remains the only link to a complete story, but it’s not like he can just out and confess that he’s touched Wonwoo’s mark. 

_ Worse, he made it glow. _

“Have you--” Junhui stops himself. He wants to ask Jihoon so many things--how it felt when he touched Mingyu’s mark, how Mingyu had reacted, how Jihoon just knows Mingyu is the one even before that. He wants to know if it aches as much as Junhui has felt and if Wonwoo will feel it too once he completes the connection. Once he touches Junhui’s mark.

But then… what? He doesn’t have any confidence he would be a good companion for Wonwoo. And what if Wonwoo doesn’t feel the same? They don’t have to share the same feelings for a connection to be made, at least not from what he’s learned. Junhui will just be wallowing these feelings towards someone who does not feel the same. Plus, if he ever brings up the topic, Jihoon will know. And then Soonyoung and Jeonghan will know. He has no qualms with how others see him, but all of this will fall upon Wonwoo's shoulders and prevent him from settling in his new home with his brother.

Junhui won’t have it that way, so instead he settles with, “I shouldn’t have taken him.” 

Jihoon gives him a suspicious look as he tries to deduce his line of thought. It was Junhui’s idea to bring in a new face when Soonyoung had first offered to go, yet he’s regretting his decision not even a week later. 

“You couldn’t have predicted the identifier, Jun.” Jihoon knows ultimately Junhui will blame himself for any mission gone wrong, a sort of self-sacrificing assholery mindset that’s got the rest of the recruits looking at him with respect. It makes him into some martyr that takes the fall for everything, but it’s just a bad habit his friends despise since they know how selfless his true nature can be. Jihoon and Soonyoung often have to fight him for the blame until he concedes, hoping that eventually Junhui can learn to share his burden without anyone wrestling it out of him. “You did your best to handle it; he’s safe thanks to you.”

Junhui shakes his head as he retrieves the daggers. “Going into the field, I’ve only prioritized the success of my mission. The lives of our comrades are important, but I’ve only ever had one goal in mind, Jihoon.” He throws and misses the bullseye by centimeters. “My life nor anyone else, there will come a time when I have to make the difficult decision that will determine if we all walk out of there alive.”

Jihoon takes a seat when Junhui refuses to look at him. Time alone has not done him any good, Jihoon thinks Junhui’s eye sockets have sunken in further than usual--a disservice to his good looks. “I know. It’s the reason why you always go alone.” 

“That’s the thing, Jihoon.” Junhui misses again, closer to the bullseye this time, his movement gets sharper with every subsequent delivery. “In that room, I didn’t think about the team or what would happen if we were compromised. I only thought of how I can save him--how I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I had abandoned him to the bots.”

When Junhui is out of blade to throw, Jihoon jogs to pick up the pieces in place of his friend. Growing up in the same faction, he’s always thought the sole nature of Junhui’s heart is what makes him so strong. Of course, there are times when he jokes about his cruelty and his tendency to pick fights for the sake of picking fights, but at the end of the day, Junhui is gentle beyond the capability of many Marked ones. It is the kindness and selflessness he possesses that makes him relentlessly strong. 

“You know, Jihoon, if it was you over the mission, I’d save you.” Junhui comments dryly, finally looking his friend in the eye. “But if it was someone I don’t know well, someone new, someone I  _ shouldn’t _ know that well, I wouldn’t hesitate to choose the mission. I  _ should _ choose the mission, right?” He chuckles, eyebrows drawn together in doubt, “is that twisted of me?”

“It’s difficult to say.” Jihoon mumbles, wondering if Junhui had been thinking about such delicate circumstances all alone. “I suppose our relationship with others reflects how we act in that sort of situation. But at the end of the day, you know we can’t save everyone.”

Jihoon stands, keeping a steady gaze on his friend as he hands him the remaining daggers. “But who is it that you  _ shouldn’t _ know that well?”

“It was a hypothetical question.”

“I see.”

“It _ is _ .”

“I didn’t say anything.” 

Junhui can usually tell when he’s being messed with, but it’s never clear with Jihoon. He feels if he says more, he might as well just confess.

“Well, I’m only here to let you know Wonwoo woke up an hour ago.” Jihoon tosses the keycard towards Junhui in midair, a knowing half-grin on his mischievous face. “But if you’re the definition of  _ twisted _ , then I don’t want to find out what qualifies Yoon Jeonghan.”

It takes Junhui an absurdly long time to reach the infirmary, walking at snail speed while contemplating if he should turn back after all. What would he even say to Wonwoo?  _ You missed the wrap up party. _ That kind of comment will get him a kick in the face.  _ Glad you’re awake.  _ Gee, Wen Junhui, why have all the eloquence in the world when you can’t even say one sentence right?

He knows he did what he had to do--surely Wonwoo would prefer to live--but who is he to draw conclusions about someone else’s well being when he can barely manage his own?

“Jun! You finally left that room.” Soonyoung bumps into him at the cafeteria adjacent to the infirmary. “Wonwoo woke up just now. He’s still groggy but I think he’ll be okay. He mumbled something about his shirt though, that was strange. Have you had lunch yet?”

“Not yet,” is all Junhui can manage, smiling weakly at Soonyoung. For one, he’s grateful for the distraction--Soonyoung really is the best person at headquarters for such a task. 

“Well, come join us if you’d like. Channie got us a table near the window.  _ Ah _ , Chan is Wonwoo’s foster brother, has he told you?” Soonyoung drags his friend across the hall, earning a few eyes from the other recruits since commanders usually eat in the Sun Room between their many meetings. “We just got back from visiting him because the kid has been worried sick, so don’t say anything that might make him sad, alright? He cried so much the other day when you returned carrying Wonwoo on your back.”

“Sure,” Junhui nods absentmindedly. 

Contrary to expectations, Junhui is well-liked among the recruits. The moment he sits, everyone joins the table just to get a glimpse of him. Chan almost stands up out of sheer nervousness but not before Soonyoung waves him down, assuring him that Junhui isn’t a scary guy--he just doesn’t talk much. The kid looks barely younger than Wonwoo, maybe by a few years, wearing the same worn expression as if the world had not been so kind to either of them. His eyes are bright and curious, but he seems nervous, fidgeting with his fingers the same way Junhui does when he’s finding the right words to say.

But Chan doesn’t waste any time, asking the question that’s been on his mind ever since his brother had returned unconscious. “Will my brother be okay?”

Like everyone else, Chan knows something had gone wrong, but his only source of information--Soonyoung--has no clue as to why his brother wouldn’t wake up for days. Frankly, he doesn’t care what happened. He just needs reassurance that his brother will be alright again.

“He’ll be fine,” Soonyoung replies, “you heard doctor Xu. He woke up with no residual effects of the drug. He just needs lots of rest for a few weeks.”

Junhui knows he wants to hear it from Junhui himself. It’s all everyone has been asking him lately, for his side of the story, for his opinion on someone else’s life, for his input on the next mission. He hasn’t responded at all, but he indulges in the boy’s request knowing how important Wonwoo is to him. 

“He told me you’d be worried, Channie, but don’t be.” He lies, smiling and reaching for his hands across the table. “He’ll be up and running in no time.”

Junhui wants to add that Wonwoo is protected by the mark by the connection Junhui has activated, and that he’s a lot stronger now, but it’s not just his own secret to tell. 

“Wait, then who’s with Wonwoo right now?” Junhui sits up suddenly, eyeing at the two.

“No one.”

“You left him alone?!”

“Don’t be silly,” Soonyoung frowns. “He’s not a child who needs to be baby-sitted. He’s sleeping--hey, where are you going? What about lunch? Jun!”

Soonyoung calls to no avail as his friend sprints towards the infirmary. Junhui’s actions never lie, and Jihoon was not the only one who sensed that something must have happened, afterall, Soonyoung manned the comms that night. Even with the feeble connection, he swears he heard some sort of compromise between the two. And then Junhui had jumped off from that window with Wonwoo on his back and proceeded to put himself on self-isolation for days. Soonyoung just  _ knows _ in his guts that something has happened. 

He knows it’s not his right to dive his nose into everything concerning his friends, but it would be nice to be depended on. He doesn’t blame Junhui, of course, that guy’s got a terrible habit of internalizing and keeping things to himself until it explodes or until he resolves it himself. It’s a toxic way to live, really. Sometimes he thinks Junhui’s bright persona is sometimes just a mask for all the self-loathing he feels inside. Soonyoung shares a reassuring look with Chan, hoping his friend will come to realize in due time that everyone is here for him. 

Wonwoo is awake when Junhui arrives. The magnitude of his pride forbids him from turning back, so Junhui treads the walk after leaving the cafeteria, through the tunnel that connects the hive to the infirmary unit, swiped his card, and knocks twice to announce his presence, and opens the door to the as Wonwoo reaches for his glasses.

“Hey.” Junhui squeaks almost too quickly, stomach churning at the sight of Wonwoo. 

“Hey,” Wonwoo greets. He’s spent the last hour trying to make sense of the event of that night, but all he can salvage is the hot sensation in his chest and the small ache on his mark. 

“You’re alive.” 

Junhui winces. Of all things to say, his brain just could  _ not _ come up with anything better.

Wonwoo tries to sit up, but the ache returns and he grimaces, holding onto the rails of the bed. Junhui moves like a ghost towards the bed, helping him prop up a pillow behind his back and retreat the as fast as he had approached. 

“So it seems.” Wonwoo doesn’t know how to communicate with him anymore. The air between them has changed, his palms sweating and his mind vocabulary blanking just looking at him.

Junhui looks like he wants to say something. Anything. He opens his mouth and closes it promptly, eyebrows drawn together in contemplation. Once again, Wonwoo is in awe of how  _ natural _ he carries himself, the very master of disguise everyone praised him to be standing at the foot of Wonwoo’s bed, pouting and fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. He looks a bit  _ cute _ , even. Junhui continues to surprise him in ways he did not think possible.

“I owe you an explanation.” Junhui settles for the simplest declaration out of the million synapses bouncing around in his brain. It’s stupid and extremely vague, but how else is Junhui suppose to encapsulate the entirety of the Marked Codex along with the unbelievable reason why Wonwoo’s mark had glowed to his touch? It’s the best Junhui can come up with while holding onto Wonwoo’s gaze, the one that keeps reminding him of images he’d rather kept behind doors under locks. Perhaps he will find better words to say when he’s granted the composure he usually is able to wield, but not now. Not when Wonwoo occupies his full attention and more. 

Junhui doesn’t get to hear an answer when the doctor returns, and he voluntarily retires away in the background. Dr. Xu, or Minghao as Junhui likes to call him, eyes him suspiciously, and Junhui feels the guilt bubbling up in his conscience. Lying to the doctor is an impossible mission, Junhui has tried many times when he’s gotten hurt but he’s never been a good liar in the first place. The only person who’s ever succeeded in fooling Minghao was Jeonghan. Junhui knows better than to start making excuses in front of the doctor. 

Of course Minghao would know when an imprint connection is activated. The usual recovery rate from an identifier is three weeks, so Wonwoo’s fast recovery rate as well as his moving mark when he’s first brought to the infirmary are solid proofs that Junhui had made an imprint on the boy. 

Minghao faces Junhui after a while. He can’t even look at the doctor in the eye, suddenly finding interests in the infirmary’s pristine bed frames. For the gazillionth time that week, he feels like he’s done something horrible.

Minghao’s impression is unreadable as he hands Wonwoo a couple of pills to which he receives gratefully. “He needs rest, Junhui. You can come back tomorrow.” He lowers his voice to add, “you let him know before I do, understand?”

Junhui nods obediently before the doctor kicks him out, telling himself in comfort that he’s most definitely not running away. Circumstances are valid excuses. He’s going to tell Wonwoo eventually, just not now when he needs the most rest.

That’s right. He’s not afraid of emotional connections. He just needs some time to get himself together.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A sudden confession from Junhui, and answers from new friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got really stuck during chapter 4 but thanks to fei, gi, bitty, and shine i managed to get through it ;) <3

**Chapter 4**

Wonwoo doesn’t get to speak to Junhui again until the day he’s armed for the exchange. He has gotten plenty of rest, more than he probably needed, that his body has begun to ache from lack of movement. The doctor discharged him on conditions that he rest and doesn’t agitate his mark again, but how can he when he has no clue about what happened in the first place.

Wonwoo feels suffocated in the same headquarter with bombardments of questions from almost everyone he meets, so when Soonyoung informs him of a follow-up assignment, he signed up despite the possibility of Junhui being there. 

Now he wishes he hasn’t. 

“How long until it opens again?” Jihoon inquires, learning the pattern of the automatic gate that opens every forty-five minutes for transport and bot patrol. They had managed to pinpoint the dropoff location and had planned in advance to take over the cargo truck, but timing was off, and they narrowly missed the escape window by two minutes. They hid in one of the stocked warehouses before the bots could spot them, but not before Junhui and Wonwoo got separated from the rest. 

“Fifteen,” Junhui replies, sinking down to the floor. “Regrouping is too risky. We’ll stay here. Eyes on the gate and just signal us when it’s time.”

The rear warehouse they are hiding in is located by a dock, and even in his dire situation, Wonwoo can’t help but let his mind drift to the exhilarating breeze of the ocean right outside, caressing his hair through the huge clearing atop. It’s his first time venturing this close to the Boundary. The sound of seagulls, of waves beating against large rock boulders, and of wind gliding across sand dunes compose a melody that puts his mind at ease. He wants to share this with Chan, the kid is probably tucked in bed back at headquarters, and soon he’ll join him for breakfast, afterall, it’s still too early for the sun to rise. 

The scenery is so nice that he almost forgets about Junhui sitting just five feet besides. 

“How are you adjusting?”

Junhui’s voice rings like a million alarms set to go off at the same time, and Wonwoo feels adrenaline rising up his chest. He admits he’s been waiting for the so-called explanation Junhui had spoken of that day, but lately, with the many new assignments, they haven’t had time nor patience to properly talk. Everything they exchanged had been strictly professional, mere surface level tension that had gone undetected among the team, save for Soonyoung and perhaps Jihoon. Wonwoo has been digging on his own, sure, he ventured asking Jihoon about it, but it’s obvious that Junhui is stalling and he just wants to hear it directly from Junhui himself at this point. 

Wonwoo gives him a look that sends him gulping, scrambling for words.

Junhui clears his throat, and then words start to vomit out of his mouth before he can stop them. “Sorry, I didn’t know how else to bring it up to you. It’s true that protocol dictates I leave you there in that corridor.”

Junhui relaxes his hold on the blade, settling it down away from Wonwoo’s reach out of habit in case he ends up grabbing it out of anger like Soonyoung always does. “I’ve been thinking it about it for weeks--why I didn’t listen to protocol.” he pauses, willing his eyes away from Wonwoo’s stare, fingers fidgeting with the hem of his sleeve once again, “and I still don’t have a logical explanation for you, Wonwoo.”

Jihoon says something in the earpiece, but all is lost on Wonwoo as he tunes his attention on Junhui. He prides himself on his patience. He’s lived his life insidiously, patiently waiting for the right moment to strike, and when it comes, he’ll win because he’s been patient. But something in the way Junhui had spoken those words, like a decision has been made one sidedly without his opinions, makes Wonwoo want to grab his collar and shake the logic out of him. 

He has so many questions. He knew only family and loved ones are allowed to contact one’s mark--he’s read it in the Codex, all five volumes of it in the infirmary. But there was no mention of pain relief, his newfound peculiar recovery rates, and nothing on the faint glow he had witnessed that day with his own blurring sight. And whatever it is he’s starting to _feel_ when he catches Junhui staring from across the room. 

But he stays calm, stealthily removing the earpiece, not wanting Soonyoung or Jihoon or possibly anyone on Junhui’s side to eavesdrop on their conversation. “We weren’t supposed to do that, were we?”

Junhui finally meets his gaze, alarmed, flame-like patterns enveloping those blue eyes. 

“Are you surprised that I know?” Wonwoo meets his eyes fervently. “Sorry for not receiving a proper education when I was young, orphan and all.”

Junhui removes his own earpieces, drawing his knees to his chest and virtually melting into a puddle of shame. He doesn’t understand why it’s so hard to just tell Wonwoo. He’s played out the scenario and all of its possible outcomes in his head a thousand times, each always ending up with Wonwoo despising him, one way or another, he cannot stand the thought of being hated by Wonwoo. 

“Are you angry?” Junhui’s voice is cautious like a child when he knows he’s done wrong. 

No, he’s not. _Truly_. He didn’t mean to raise his voice, either. He just wants to understand, a bit disappointed more than anything that he has to be the person to raise the question-- the one to seek answers. 

Wonwoo shifts his blade to the side, sighing and resigning to the look Junhui is giving him. He might not get an answer today, not when Junhui looks at him with such an apologetic expression, and he’s not sure he wants one either. Their connection is feeble, held together by a string of emotion that may or may not disappear into puffs of air any moment. He knows that feelings are fickle and connections are just as easily severed as they are formed, especially between two virtual strangers--that’s all they are right now. If he demands an explanation from Junhui, he would have no other reason to seek him out afterward; it’s the one reason he hasn’t pressed, hasn’t stormed into his space for fear their fragile bond will fade. Wonwoo admits it’s a petty motivation behind his decision to let Junhui think he’s at the receiving end of anger, but he lets Junhui ponder over that anyway, hoping it just might prolong their tie to each other for a bit longer.

What he doesn’t expect is Junhui’s blatant honesty in dire times, his power to render someone else completely helpless with the hard, cold truth when he has no further barricade to block it from escaping. 

“I’m attracted to you.” Junhui blurts when it’s clear Wonwoo will not speak to him, his voice barely audible amidst the whispers of the ocean and the beating of his own heart. He wants to be sincere, at least, if he is going to give any sort of excuse at all, so he settles for the simplest, most truthful explanation he can offer. “I’m attracted to you, Wonwoo. I find it hard to face you, and all of my logical thoughts vanish at the sight of you. That within the mazes and the madness of my mind, all I see is you.” 

Junhui doesn’t plan for it to come out like this. He can’t even look at Wonwoo as he continues, once again letting his mouth wreck havoc on their budding relationship. 

“It’s illogical because I can’t control it. I tell myself that I’m just confused, but at that moment, all I thought about was your safety.” Junhui swallows hard, the sound thunderous in his ears. “Then I think about how you would not have done the same for me because we barely knew each other, so if that isn’t the shittiest excuse you have _ever_ heard in your life, then I’d rather you hear nothing from me at all.”

The static from the earpiece is the only sound Wonwoo hears besides his rapid heartbeat, the only sight he sees besides the anguish washing over Junhui’s features. All the thoughts he’s harbored at the depth of night to throw at Junhui fade away at the back of his throat, and he finds himself, for once, at a loss for words. But he doesn’t get to answer or process any of this when Jihoon sprints into the warehouse, yelling at them to get out before the gate closes. 

And just like that, the mission is declared a success, and the conversation they’ve had at the port warehouse fades into the music and the celebrations of that night. Wonwoo knew better than to bring up the topic again, especially when he’s unsure how to process what he had just heard. He can’t fathom it. Junhui’s tone and expressions, his quivering eyelashes that refused to look at Wonwoo. It can’t be. Surely what wasn’t a _confession_ . And if it is, a confession of what, exactly? Their surface interaction doesn’t warrant love, and Junhui never said he was _in love_ with him or anything, just that he was attracted, and something about being confused at his actions--Wonwoo couldn’t catch anything beyond _attracted_. 

He feels abandoned in the dark even when he’s gotten the explanation. Maybe he’s the only one still bothered by the event of that night, the only one still replaying the shadow of Junhui’s body hovering over his, pretty eyes and soft lips so close he can sense the distance. As best as he tries to suppress it, Junhui’s outburst takes priority on the ocean of his thoughts, drowning away his concentration and demanding his attention more often than he’d like. 

With no further clarification after they returned, Junhui is once again occupied with problems that aren’t his own. It’s like fate has a way of keeping them apart, like they keep missing each other on purpose or accident. Last time, it’s the doctor’s order that keeps Wonwoo isolated in the infirmary. This time, it’s the arrival of Yoon Jeonghan that swamps Junhui with work, abruptly pushing that conversation to the back of his mind.

Yoon Jeonghan, as Soonyoung introduces, is their true leader--the founder of the Resistance. Wonwoo meets him for the first time at the debriefing meeting following their successful weapon seizure. He’s dressed just like anyone else besides a head of striking blond hair that falls over his eyes in soft waves, and a smile that bewitches anyone within a five feet radius. Whispers of Jeonghan and Junhui among the headquarters’ walls pulls Wonwoo back into his pool of thoughts; he finds himself wondering what the two could be doing in the Sun Room the many days and nights nobody else was allowed access. 

“They say he’s like royalty around here.” Soonyoung’s input, usually welcomed, is not one Wonwoo can expect to swallow today. “Well, I guess he actually is, being a direct descendant of the last royal bloodline from the old regime and all. You can say this organization has something to do with reclaiming his birthright.”

Wonwoo shifts his stance, leveling the javelin in his grip and Chan does the same, matching his posture to his brother’s. Wonwoo ruffles his head affectionately. “Hope he doesn’t plan to use our lives to back that claim.”

“Haha! No, Jeonghan is kinder than most despite how he looks.” Soonyoung laughs dryly. “By the way, have you met Mingyu?” 

Soonyoung waves over the tall boy standing beside Jihoon, and Wonwoo recognizes him right away as the sniper on the roof the night of their casino mission. He’d seen him earlier as well, standing outside the door of the Sun Room with Jeonghan the day he arrived. The tall boy jogs over with excitement, waving at Soonyoung and bowing his head at Wonwoo. He looks like a giant puppy.

“Mingyu here is one of our best snipers,” Soonyoung proclaims proudly. 

“I’m not _that_ good.” The younger boy scratches his head shyly, tousling his messy locks of hair and waving his hands in denial but seems to enjoy the praise nonetheless. He looks no older than Soonyoung and Jihoon, perhaps a year or two younger, and his eyes hold a youthful spark like Chan, rosy and well-worn through hardship in a world that denies him freedom.

“ _And_ ,” Soonyoung twirls his hands to make a point. “Jihoon’s boyfriend.”

Mingyu makes a violent move to shut Soonyoung’s mouth, large hand cupping his entire face as Soonyoung dodges and laughs. 

“Tell Wonwoo about the time you made his mark glow--”

“Shut up! Jihoon doesn’t want people to find out!”

“What did you say?” Wonwoo interrupts. “ _Made his mark glow?_ ” 

Wonwoo’s poking around has gotten him answers about the sacred act of touching one’s mark, but the fact that it had glow is the bit he couldn't bring himself to mention. It seems too personal, too intimate, and _heck_ Wonwoo does not need any rumors about him and the intel leader defining his capability as an agent of the Resistance or impact his life in any way. Especially not when Chan is still trying to adapt to the new environment at headquarters.

Mingyu eyes the two suspiciously and Wonwoo can see the wirings in his brain turning at lightning speed, deciding whether to risk Jihoon’s wrath for his friend, but he finally resigns to Soonyoung’s teasings as he drops his hand, sighing and holding his head in defeat. 

“You must not have known, Wonwoo. It’s a famous myth around these parts.” Soonyoung straightens up. “Well, not really a myth anymore since it actually happened to Jihoon and Mingyu, but before that it was just a legend passed around by word of mouth. Obviously, besides family, we’re not allowed to touch each other’s marks, it’s derogatory and invasive, but once in a blue moon, very rarely when we’re too occupied with… how do I say this? With _feelings--_ ”

“Just get to the point! I feel very uncomfortable right now.” Mingyu whines, squinting his eyes in annoyance.

“ _Shush_ , I’m getting there!” Soonyoung clears his throat, blushing. Wonwoo can see his encyclopedia of a brain buzzing with joy. “Anyway, rarely does it happen, but if your mark glows underneath someone else’s touch, that means you’re an imprinted pair.” 

Wonwoo scoffs. “That sounds ridiculous.”

“It just means you’re compatible.” Mingyu quickly adds. “Your senses are connected. You can communicate with one another besides spoken words. You’re compatible in battle, in friendship, and--”

“ _In bed._ ” Soonyoung coughs loud enough to mask his words, earning Mingyu’s entire elbow to his chest. He buckles back, coughing and laughing as the air gets knocked out of his lungs, and claps his hands in an apologetic gesture before the taller boy sends him another blow. Mingyu seems to be questioning his friendship with Soonyoung right about now. 

“But not every imprinted becomes a couple,” Mingyu continues. “You will just be sharing a special bond that allows you to be closer, stronger together. Anywho, it’s very unlikely to happen since we don’t just go around and _do that_ to check. Jihoon and I found each other completely by accident.”

The conversation leaves Wonwoo with even more questions than before. Imprinted pair. A ridiculous name for something that doesn’t even work. Shouldn’t he be able to understand Junhui better if they are indeed connected beyond the senses? 

But Mingyu and Jihoon are living proof that it exists, Wonwoo saw it in the way they interact, seamlessly, like two hearts beating as one. He sees it in the way Jihoon looks at Mingyu, communicating something beyond words, smiling with so much affection the act renders him years younger. They are clearly happy together, their space blossoming into a garden of tenderness, each flower is a memory planted with care and nurtured with devotion. And when they bloom, the bond is tightened and the two knit even closer to one another.

Wonwoo feels a pang of envy at the depth of his chest; despite what happened at the warehouse, perhaps they are only meant to be friends that Wonwoo cannot feel that connection to Junhui. Among the many things he’s looked forward to in life, Wonwoo craves connections that go beyond the surface. He has it with Chan, the two can share a look and instantly knows what one another wants. He has it with the brothers and sisters he buried at the tender age of eight, but never has he allowed himself to be in search of it. 

Junhui had said he felt attraction towards him, illogical things he cannot explain nor control, but feelings are fickle entities that can change as fast as it festers. What’s more, Wonwoo doesn’t even know if these feelings are real or if they are just mirages and by-products of the imprinted connection Junhui has activated. Would he have done the same had he been in Junhui’s position? Without a doubt. But would he have done the same if he knew there was a big chance he wouldn’t be able to come back home to Chan? It’s uncertain. He’s known for some times that happiness is often granted to the privileged, to those who can afford to be hurt and mend, and that is something Wonwoo cannot claim, because once the connection is lost, he’ll be left alone again, helpless and powerless in his attempt to salvage it. 

So he sits alone in his garden of thought, staring at the single flower fluttering to the rhythm of the wind--a small, fragile angel’s trumpet yearning for the sun in place of a sunflower without any rightful claim to that warmth. It was planted by Junhui, yet he wonders if days and years will pass before this blue flower is allowed to bloom. He wonders if it will be nurtured or if it will only be allowed to wither as a lonely bud after a gratuitous amount of time and return to the desolated soil where it came from. He looks towards the mighty castle, guarded with layers of boundary where Junhui resides alone. Certainly, Wonwoo’s garden may remain barren forevermore when his delicate connection to Junhui is finally broken. 

He wonders if Junhui feels the same--if he’s ever allowed himself the luxury of happiness, of being understood. Maybe it’s why Junhui hasn’t told anyone about their connection. Maybe that is just something they can find only when they are beyond the Boundary. Free. 

Wonwoo thinks if anyone deserves it, it should be Junhui. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Madness is like gravity, and sometimes all you need is a little push.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter used to be my least favorite because it gave me such a hard time, but now it's ;) it's pivotal.  
> chapter 6 is the end! get ready for fluff hehehehehe
> 
> comments and kudos keep me going~ <3

**Chapter 5**

Wonwoo doesn’t see Junhui until everyone is allowed in the Sun Room again. He stands next to Jeonghan at the center of the control panel, the two of them radiating an air of eminence far different from the rest, and Junhui had looked so far away that Wonwoo finally sees the distance of his feeble fantasy. 

He’s been informed by whispers among recruits that they are cousins, born astray in the middle of the Uprising and now strive for the same goal to overthrow the dictator. Wonwoo isn’t sure if it is relief that he feels upon hearing that, because that would mean he had been jealous of Jeonghan for spending days and nights with Junhui. But he can see why everyone has so much respect for the leader. He sees it in the way Jeonghan carries himself, regality and poise with the luster of diamond. His words have power to move mountains and even just a wave of his hand draws attention and respect from others, as one would expect from the faction’s greatest negotiator. 

Junhui, on the other hand, seems uncomfortable in the spotlight. Not that he shines any less. If Jeonghan is the diamond, then Junhui would be an elusive moonstone with chipped edges from years of wounds on his heart. He’d seen the way Junhui handles his blade, slicing through enemies without hesitation, sometimes grinning like a mad man doing what he does best without conscience. Afterall, madness is like gravity, and sometimes all you need is a little push. Yet he shines just as bright, maybe even brighter in Wonwoo’s eyes because beneath the wears and tears of it all, he knows Junhui is more than the reputation he precedes. Even standing so far away, Wonwoo feels the familiar throb at the depth of his chest that clings to him for a lot longer this time. 

Junhui finds him alone in the weaponry after dinner, polishing a set of daggers given to him by Vernon. It’s not a coincidence by any means. Junhui had wanted to come sooner, but Jeonghan had been prying around after Minghao had informed him of the new imprinted connection that Junhui had had no time nor plan to shake his cousin off his tails. Sure, Jeonghan can keep a secret, but he just feels uncomfortable with anyone else knowing before he lets Wonwoo know himself. 

It doesn’t take long before he’s spotted lingering at the entrance. Wonwoo sets his blades down on a piece of leather patchwork and rolls it up in one bundle.

“Hey,” Junhui breathes, watching Wonwoo closely.

“Hey.”

The silence is suffocating, then again, Junhui can never breathe properly with Wonwoo around. He takes long, anxious strides towards Wonwoo, each step more nerve-wracking than the last. He closes the distance between them with ease, hoping he appears nonchalant enough despite the growing tension that’s thickening the air with every passing second. Junhui has practiced this for so long, he can even do it in his sleep, yet it always feels more difficult when he’s in Wonwoo’s presence.

“The identifier is a drug that bends your mind and physical state to the will of the administered, and your mark glows because… well--”

“I know what it means, Junhui.”

Wonwoo chuckles, enjoying the way Junhui turns from bafflement to embarrassment in a record speed of half a second. He watches Junhui stutters with his answer, shifting his weight back and forth, rapidly blinking and turning the palms of his hand over and over. Wonwoo finally understood why Junhui had been particularly adamant about his consent that night at the casino.

He beckons him closer with a flick of his finger, and Junhui complies, taking another step as if they are not already an arm’s length away. His brain is telling him to take a step back, to back away but his rising heartbeat and that wretched attraction pulls him forward anyway. He feels obligated to Wonwoo in some way, like he owes Wonwoo an apology and so much more as he treads on the thin line that separates them, teetering, pivoting on the thin string of their relationship that may snap with any sudden trigger.

“Show me yours,” Wonwoo murmurs, almost purring in the proximity they share, and Junhui understands the command immediately. 

He gulps, the sound in his ears is a forte reminder of the connection they share. It’s definitely a reasonable, expected request, but one that surprises Junhui nonetheless. The temperature in the weaponry has dropped below what he can usually handle, numbing his fingers and causing his lips to quiver, but the heat rising up at the tips of his ears tells Wonwoo otherwise. 

Wonwoo stays still. Patient and complacent except his eyes--his eyes travel eagerly across Junhui’s body, trying to guess where his mark is located. 

Junhui doesn’t hesitate for long. With the same swiftness as the first time, he pulls on the neckline of his black t-shirt and exposes his skin to the crispness of the air. He shivers partly from the cold and mainly from the way Wonwoo’s eyes travel across his skin, gliding over his scars and blemishes as his chest moves organically to the rhythm of his breath. He feels touched and completely naked underneath Wonwoo’s gaze as Wonwoo leans against the metal counter, hands to his side, making no attempt to invade Junhui’s space. 

Junhui reaches an arm behind his back and rips out the skin-like bandage that covers his mark, the sound echoes on the walls, bouncing to similar frequency as his shaky fingers. When he turns around, Wonwoo is greeted with a cerulean sunflower at the base of Junhui’s spine just above the fasten of his trousers. It gleams so magnificently even before his touch, saturated, brimming with hope and light. 

_ Ah _ , Wonwoo thinks.  _ Of course.  _ There truly can be no other symbol that embodies Wen Junhui so perfectly. The sunflower he had wished upon, with light and warmth that permeates even the coldest night, shines and moves to the subtle motion of his fingers, delicately, like blue shadows dancing to the dynamics of their connection. Wonwoo feels drawn to the flower as if bewitched; it fascinates and terrifies him at the same time. He wonders if the symbol is a mark of his lineage to the old regime. It suits him. 

“It’s glowing.” His voice is warm on the back of Junhui’s neck as he presses his fingers on the spot. “Does it hurt when I touch you?”

“No,” Junhui whispers meekly, feeling hot and cold and everything temperature in between. He feels Wonwoo’s fingers on his mark before the feeling kicks in, a feeling that rendered him frozen on the spot, completely vulnerable to whatever Wonwoo may decide to do. An agitating yet sweet sensation surges through his entire body not unlike the sedated throb he’s felt the night he’s had his turn on Wonwoo’s mark. “Did it feel like this when I touched  _ you _ ?”

Wonwoo brings his lips right beside Junhui’s ears, voice dipping into darkness. “Like what? Describe it for me.”

Junhui shudders. He feels Wonwoo’s fingers tracing circles around his mark, pressing and lifting every so and again, the sensation alone is making his head spin. It drives him up a wall, his limbs too numbed and sluggish to fight back, pulling the enticing memory of Wonwoo laying underneath him on that mattress--flushed cheeks, quivering lips, and glassy eyes boring into his own. 

“It’s h-hard to breath.”

And then it suddenly stops. Thankfully so, any more than that and Junhui would undoubtedly go crazy. Wonwoo takes a deep breath to will his heart quiet, stepping back to dissolve the sweet scent that had so fogged up his brain into tiny specks of butterflies settling at the pit of his stomach. He sees the new sunflower in his garden, planted by his own hand and making the other flower bloom faster than he had prepared for. He feels the rush of adrenaline when these two flowers birth even more flowers, and pretty soon he has a small shrub of yellows and blues blooming so beautifully underneath the sunlight. They crowd around where he sits, clogging up his airway with a sweet and inviting scent, and for a brief second, he’s afraid they would wither too soon.

“I also find it hard to breathe around you, Junhui. Is it because of the connection we share?”

Junhui sniffles shakily as he throws his shirt back on to face Wonwoo. “ _ It’s not. _ ” 

Wonwoo is sure he has spoken but he doesn’t hear it with his own ears. Instead, he hears Junhui’s voice as a whisper in his mind, an inner voice that reverberates inside his tympanum.

“I just heard you.” Wonwoo speaks aloud. “Inside my head, I heard you!”

“ _ It would be strange if you didn’t. We completed the connection just now. _ ” 

Wonwoo hears the small giggles he adores even when he cannot hear it aloud and wonders if this is the beyond senses connection Mingyu and Soonyoung had spoken of. 

“ _ Say something back to me. _ ”

Wonwoo says the first thing that comes to mind, the words he’s yearned to say between the many days they’ve been apart, sending Junhui to an array of reactions once more. There’s something therapeutic in breaking Junhui’s composure, the nicks and minuscule twitches of his many eyelids that compels Wonwoo to keep teasing him even when they are this close. His flushed cheeks and trembling composure only invite Wonwoo for more. 

He wonders briefly if Junhui can even hear his thoughts and feel the panic spreading through his veins. “What are you thinking?” Wonwoo asks aloud, feeling if he pokes the boy a bit more, he’ll have more than just flushed cheeks and his own quivering heartbeats to deal with. 

Junhui takes a long look at Wonwoo to imprint his visage behind his eyelids. He feels a strange sense of fulfillment flooding the chambers of his heart, filling his brain with so much happiness that he’s afraid would overflow into clumsy words of endearment—words he does not have the luxury to utter but does anyway for Junhui is never able to control his mouth when Wonwoo’s around. His voice breaks a little when he projects his own fear. 

“I don’t deserve this.”

“ _ This _ , as in the ability to communicate telepathically, or  _ this _ , as in the plenitude of warmth we share?” 

Junhui shakes his head. “I’ve lived my life with one goal, Wonwoo, to have the regime’s head on a platter and avenge our people. I’ve lived within the Boundary for twenty years with the same goal, and I’ve done too many horrible things without a moment of remorse to be  _ allowed _ any of the emotions I feel right now. Happiness.  _ Euphoria _ . Whatever it is you’re making me feel, it’s costly, and I mean that in the best way.”

For someone who cries for the lives he takes, Junhui gives himself too little credit. Wonwoo has seen the ruthless and cruel side of Junhui in action and has witnessed countless lives snuffed in a matter of seconds underneath his own hands, but he’s also seen the wretched side of him in the aftermath, eyes brimming with tears only allowed to fall in the absence of his comrades. He knows Junhui feels remorse and guilt most of all, he’s miserable with the life he’s chosen. And yet, as he stands there basking in the dim light of the old weaponry, he looks just as striking as the first time Wonwoo had laid eyes on him. 

Wonwoo closes the distance and seals Junhui’s lips in a kiss, gatekeeping whatever nonsense dwelling in the cobweb of his thoughts that’s about to come out. It takes a moment for Junhui to process it, but he reciprocates, and Wonwoo advances further, silencing the turmoils of Junhui’s penitence and intertwining their tongues. He has long been able to see through the facade of intimidation Junhui puts up to keep others away, fearing relationships that have the ability to grant him immunity over his sins, and so he lets Junhui dive into the pool of his thought as he encourages acceptance to every bit of happiness coming Junhui’s way. That he deserves it. Slowly, Wonwoo undoes the shackles Junhui has put on his own wrists and kisses him until his eyes waver, biting his lower lip in reminiscent of the bite he’s gotten in that dark room. 

“ _ Payback _ .” Wonwoo whispers sweetly, opening up doors to their relationship. For the first time, Wonwoo feels like he’s breached the first gate—the first boundary on his way to invade Junhui’s fortified castle he so wishes to remain in. Wonwoo lets his mind entertain the idea of planting his garden right outside the walls to brighten up the castle, feeling braver with the new connection he’s built. They’ll plant sunflowers and angel’s trumpets all around the inner walls, enliven the space and welcome the sun to share her warmth, her light, and the flowers will bloom and propagate into new flowers. He’ll watch the mighty castle from the small cottage by the garden, knocking on the door and inviting its keeper out to play occasionally. He can’t promise that Junhui will ever come out, but at least he can promise to care for their garden everyday.

He’ll keep trying until Junhui opens his heart; he has all the time in the world.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They lay overlooking the stars, wishing, yearning for a time when they can all be free. Together. Beyond the Boundary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter!
> 
> Originally I planned for 8 chapters with a more dystopian-fitting climax but then I would never have been able to finish this within a week's deadline HAHA (should have given myself more time but my brain rly insisted on writing a 15k dystopian au in a week). I keep re-reading and re-writing this chapter bc I want to make it as seamless an ending as possible, so hopefully I pulled through :B
> 
> Enjoy! Thank you so much for reading, it was a fun little story to write :)
> 
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated <3

**Chapter 6**

Wonwoo hasn’t had, for lack of a better word, a single peaceful day since the establishment of his connection with Junhui. He’d bother him everywhere, sneaking into his mind at the most random time and asking about nothing of importance. Although Wonwoo admits he feels warm at the thought of Junhui just wanting to talk--he’d prefer to meet up and cuddle if duty allows, but unfortunately time has been of the essence among the headquarter walls as preparations for assassinations begin. 

_ “Where are you?” _ Junhui had whispered after training one night, knowing Wonwoo had entered the bath with Soonyoung and Chan a few minutes earlier. 

_ “In the shower.” _

_ “Oh, well, are you thinking about me?”  _

Wonwoo had paused and collapsed to the floor with a head full of shampoo, much to the dismay of Soonyoung and Chan. He had wanted to melt at the sheer shamelessness of Junhui’s question, but had also wanted to box up every single thought they exchanged into tiny lockets of memory in his mind for when their garden needed a little reminder of their love. Yes, even this embarrassing one. 

_ “I will be--in a bit.” _

But it’s not like Junhui is the only one, Wonwoo abuses the channel just the same, whispering the questionables in Junhui’s mind amidst his meetings, whenever they’re waiting for immediate commands in the same van, and any time he catches Junhui spacing out in the crowd. Words that send Junhui blushing, hands on his heart, eyebrows knitting together as he tries to flush out the sudden adrenaline that makes his diaphragm contract. Yet, Wonwoo’s sincerity shines through in those little messages, telling Junhui he deserves to be happy everyday, twice a day, sometimes randomly in the middle of the night when Junhui’s consciousness has drifted off to dreams. Wonwoo whispers love and promises, knocking routinely on the door to his castle--now slightly ajar only to him--and tiptoeing into the castle to hand him flowers in full bloom from the day’s harvest. He tells him to smile knowing one day Junhui will want to take his outstretched hands and cross the boundary he’s drawn. 

They chat earnestly in their time apart, genuine and proper conversations meant to stay for a lifetime, their time so enjoyable that Wonwoo even begins to think maybe it is not so bad to be Marked. Aside from Junhui, all the people he’s met at the faction makes him feel different, wanted, and perhaps needed even in a world he had long since despised. 

And when they come face-to-face, everyone notices a difference. Chan catches Wonwoo smiling more and conversing in ways he hasn't since they buried their brothers and sisters, and Soonyoung watches Junhui transform from the leader who despises everything about himself to someone who can whisper words of self-praise after a job well done. 

“Your mark.” Junhui discloses one day. “It’s the angel’s trumpet flower.”

It was the day before the big day. The assassination of a key player in the dictator’s regime--an assignment that has been planned over the course of months, coming faster than the sliver of light often peeking through the fog at sunrise in the Sun Room--an event so important it’s meant to alter the course of history. 

“A sign of death. I’m well aware.”

“No. A sign of hope.  _ Rebirth _ .” Junhui shakes his head. “It’s beautiful.”

They had met up at the roof of the Sun Room for a stargazing date, as Junhui had labeled it, with blankets and pillows and a basket of what looked like homemade sandwiches Mingyu had helped Junhui make a few hours earlier. The blanket is soft, much like the greenery he’d imagine to be in his garden. They lay close to one another, shoulders and arms linking together as Junhui plays with his hand, lifting fingers with his own lithe ones. They sneak out just in time before curfew and intend to stay until sunrise. It is here that Wonwoo feels at home again, his mind mirroring the endless redshifting stars in the openness of the universe. He feels calm and at ease, like whatever he says now will be guarded and protected within the boundary of their castle, granting him a small moment of liberation.

“Jun, do you remember what you asked me the first time we met?”

Junhui nods, feeling the anxiety bubbling up his chest. He had asked who Wonwoo had killed to harbor that look in his eyes, that sheer enmity like the entire world is out to get him. He had wanted to raise the question again when they got closer, but decided it best to wait for Wonwoo whenever he’s ready for it. After all, the act of taking a life has a way of leaving scars so deep they can never be erased or atoned until the day they die. Junhui knows this well.

Wonwoo fiddles with the bit of scabs on his finger, unsure how to start. The stars are bright tonight, and even with ruins and fogs for company, they’re perfectly content there on the roof. He feels if he speaks now, Junhui will understand and forgive him even if he cannot forgive himself. 

So he tells Junhui the story that’s been haunting him for decades. He tells him about the priest at the orphanage who had taught him to read, to paint, to laugh when he’s happy and cry when he’s sad. How it was like a dream, how he had found family among strangers and a place to call home. 

But then horrible things started to happen. His eldest foster sister never returned after a trip to town through the narrow path within the woods, and then his eldest brother, too, had disappeared one day after he left to search for her. Then he had found his third brother in the middle of the night, screaming and bleeding out in the wood, telling him to run from the murderer at the orphanage that had killed all of his siblings and sold their carcases for money. 

“Our brother was only eleven then, barely any older than Chan and I.” 

Wonwoo takes slow, painful breath that pricks his lungs the more he speaks of his past. He can feel Junhui watching him with a soft look in his eyes, squeezing his hands in reassurance and sending a gentle wave of warmth that floods his mind. 

“But I didn’t run. I sneak into his bedroom and slit his throat while he sleeps. I set the orphanage on fire and ran away with Chan through the clearing that had taken our siblings and wandered within the Boundary for years until we met Vernon.” Wonwoo gulps, his throat dryer than ever as more words spill out. It is like Junhui had taken a hammer and broken the dam he’s built for so long that the force of his words cannot be stopped once he starts spilling. “But that’s just it, Jun. I can say I did it to protect Chan, to make sure Father doesn’t get to hurt another soul that steps foot into the orphanage, to avenge my brothers and sister, but I think… I think I  _ wanted _ to do it. I felt so angry at how powerless I was, how a single adult can take away the people I love just as easy as driving a knife through their flesh, so by taking his life, I thought that maybe I’ll feel more in control of my own life.”

Junhui feels the tremblings in the hand he holds as Wonwoo swim through the ocean of bitter debris in his memories. Through the wreckage, Junhui sees the insecurity and despair Wonwoo has held onto all by himself, emotions so strong they outweigh remorse and guilt. He sees the man beside him lost and adrift, ready to fall apart and disappear in an unsalvageable sea of self-loathing. 

So he holds on tighter, lacing their fingers together to remind Wonwoo that he’s not alone. He whispers in his mind,  _ “It must have been hard.” _

Wonwoo smiles sadly, the lines underneath his eyes weary and drained, liberosis settling in his state of mind that propels him from his grip on life. “There are always those who have it harder.”

“That doesn’t make your experience any less painful.”

He chuckles dryly amidst the tremor of his past, fearing the gaping hole in his chest would reflect Junhui’s thoughts of him as well via the connection they now share. He wants so badly to ask if Junhui still sees him as someone precious, as someone he can fathom the thought of being with. He wants to know if Junhui is disgusted with him yet. 

But it’s like Junhui can read his mind, he brings Wonwoo’s hand to his lip and places kisses upon his calloused knuckles, so gentle and sweet Wonwoo almost feels unentitled to such affections. “The darkest moment is what shapes you, Wonwoo, and I’ll stay with you no matter what. I’ll sink with you into the abyss--wherever you may go. We’ll carry those sins with us for the rest of our life together.”

There’s some truth to his words that Wonwoo finds comforting. He hasn’t told anyone about this, not even Chan, the kid was too young back then, but he thinks there is something about having your hardship and suffering known by others--the sheer recognition of it--that alleviates, ever so slightly, the burden of carrying it alone. And whatever burden Junhui still carries on his shoulders, Wonwoo hopes he will find peace even before his death. He hopes he will, too, together with Junhui if that is the last thing he is allowed to do. 

Throughout their time together, Wonwoo has had doubts whether he can allow himself to be this happy. He’s afraid the darkness will just swallow Junhui up and pull him from the safety of his arms the moment he allows himself to feel love again. And what if Junhui disappears the moment he becomes careless and loses sight of him?  Even though their hands are firmly laced together, Junhui’s eyes and attention are his to hold, the many memories of loss tell him to be careful otherwise.  Wonwoo wants badly to pull back from his feelings for Junhui yet he can’t stop himself from going further, anxiously, to the unknown where his desires lie. Fear still grabs him in the neck once in a while and he’s terrified of what to come, of where these strong emotions may lead him, but as long Junhui continues to hold his hand, he promises he won’t let go. 

“Do you think we will die tomorrow?”

The question is meant to be a joke, but Junhui’s blank countenance convinces him otherwise. Nobody has spoken about it in the many conferences they’ve had yet it’s the one question on everyone’s mind. Wonwoo knew they always have to put their lives on the line, but tomorrow is on a different scale, one they will have to quickly adapt to because it will serve as an outline for every single assignment from now on. 

“I’m not sure. I’ve always thought death is something inevitable. Why fear it when it is what to come—when it is everyone’s end?”

“At least life will be fair in death.” 

“I agree,” Junhui smiles, “it would be nice for us all to survive and go beyond.”

Junhui squeezes Wonwoo’s hand, laughing at the sheer innocence of their wishes. Deep down, they both know they cannot save everyone, yet the idea is so noble and tempting that when they speak of it with such light tempers, they almost believed it to be true. 

Wonwoo knows only those who have lost their world knows how hard it is to retrieve it, and he thinks Junhui’s grand vision for the future mirrors the many losses in his own life. Junhui wants to protect the world and every Marked one he can save, his desire to sacrifice for the better good is so noble he might choose to sacrifice himself in the process. But it’s that side of him Wonwoo and everyone else admire so dearly, and he doesn’t wish to stop him. Instead, Junhui can protect the world, and Wonwoo will protect him. 

The conversation continues deep into the night. Junhui shares the many books he’s had the chance to read that described life beyond, how happy the people were running around barefoot on soft green blankets called  _ grass _ , and Wonwoo wonders if the sky was ever clear without fog and smoke thickened by endless wailings into the night. They laugh at the idea of letting wind course through their hair and feeling the harshness and warmth of the sun on their faces without dying from poison from the atmosphere. They talk about the end to living underground and the vision for their lives together as if there is an entirely new life about to start when tomorrow comes.

“How do you have so much faith in a world you do not yet know? What if it’s not anything like you pictured it to be?” Wonwoo asks, turning to face Junhui and taking in the beauty that he is underneath the stars. 

Junhui’s lips curve into a smile, radiating so much child-like purity that Wonwoo is willing to believe everything he says next.

“Human thrives on hope, Wonwoo, we need something to hold on to, something to look forward to. Be it the food we get to eat, the people we get to see, or the ability to watch the sun rise and set in all of its stability that we can never achieve. We need something to live for, and for me, it’s the world beyond the Boundary. Imagine waking up to colors and seeing the sun rise even at the bottom of the hill.”

Junhui takes a pensive look at the sky, looking absolutely breathtaking underneath the stars that Wonwoo feels overwhelmed by the unlimited void of his feelings. He clutches his heart mentally for fear of his feelings being heard, the sky as his only witness.

“There’s so much more to life than the greys within the Boundary,” Junhui looks far ahead beyond the sky and into the distant stars as if wishing for it to be true. “I just know there  _ has _ to be. And if there isn’t, then I’ll just have to search for it.”

He wonders how Junhui can stay in that castle of his for so long, dreaming and working his life towards the world beyond where everyone can be free yet continue to keep his own hearts under locks and keys, punishing his soul for the things he’s done. It’s a true contradiction to everything he stands for, but Wonwoo does not wish to change him. He only wishes to stay by his side for as long as the flowers in their evergreen oasis continue to bloom.

“Once we’re out, take me on an official stargazing date. You owe me that much.” 

Junhui chuckles. “There are no stars beyond the Boundary.”

“ _ What _ ?” he feigns ignorance. “But we are still going?”

“Yes,” he’s laughing fully now, the kisses of stars glistening on his heart-shaped lips. “It’s certainly a sacrifice to make, but sometimes we must leave what is desirable and strive for what is necessary. Besides,” Junhui reaches over and removes his glasses, brushing a finger to Wonwoo’s eyelashes, “I have all the shatters of stars right here in your eyes.”

Wonwoo doesn’t know if there ever will be a stronger emotion than love because the word alone doesn’t describe the boundless feeling he harbors for Junhui. His love is unconditional in the inexhaustible way people never run out of oxygen to breath. It encompasses absolute loyalty and devotion, and for the first time since his forgotten days at the orphanage, Wonwoo knows what it is to fear death. To fathom the thought of life without Junhui. 

That night, he listens to all the dreams and wishes Junhui has for his life beyond the Boundary and can’t help but believe his grandeur visions that are starting to sound more than just dreams. He can see the sliver of opening from Junhui’s gate widening to a fissure of opportunity, and Junhui emerges from his prison right when the flowers begin to bloom in their garden with every kiss they share, sweet with promises and love. Wonwoo promises to never forget this night even if they do not survive tomorrow. In their hearts, their spirits are already free; they have already crossed the boundary needed to be crossed and have spent their lives together in the field of forever greens. 

Still, they lay overlooking the stars that night, wishing, yearning for a time when they can all be free. Together. Beyond the Boundary.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on twitter @wenwooz !


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